Two Hands
by StuffedLion
Summary: Every person seeks. And every person has a bit to offer to those they meet. Pollination, romance will be in later chapters.


It sat in the main foyer of the centre, situated close to the windows that opened on the facility's private courtyard. An upright Yamaha, donated by some generous family years ago so that resident and visitor alike could play. The middle pedal was unusual in that instead of holding onto the notes played when depressed, it dulled all notes, softening them, and could be held in such a state to leave one's feet free for the other two pedals. You heard from nurses and the occasional player that it was in tune, tuned regularly, ready for all sorts of hands.

You did not play it yourself, though. Already you had enough looks of pity; those struck your nerves until you were ready to scream and pound out wince-worthy discord. But you were old enough to know better, as your father's glare had said, so you did not. The closest you came to the piano was idly listening, noting slipups and styles and making mental additions as the sounds of others playing moved through room and hall, the fingers on your left hand-your only hand now-shifting as they had across familiar keys.

-0-

Once, you heard someone jest about the best way to find pianists. One only needed to leave one out, and they would flock to it, no matter how much they knew or how long ago they last played. If it was there, they would come.

You lasted one week, three days.

An itch had settled into your legs and chest and your temples, had you wandering long after most were asleep, and had you finding yourself staring at the piano.

Perhaps it was the air of the place, but in spite of being closed, it seemed to stare back at you. With an unusual amount of care for placing your feet and not making the floor creak, you made your way over to it, cracking open the lid once you sat. Your heels didn't quite touch the ground, and the seat earned a reproachful scowl. It was one of the many that lined two sides of the foyer, and as such, nonadjustable. "Honestly, I don't understand why they wouldn't get a proper seat," you muttered.

The piano made no reply.

Locking down the middle pedal, you played the light beginnings of a scale-A major-nodding in satisfaction at the muted notes. Your fingers danced up then down the keys several times, your hand glided. You went through all of your old warm-up, starting over when you fumbled, which was more than you liked. But rather inevitable, given how long it had been. Negligence led to deterioration, and you paid with missteps and low curses.

Eventually you finished the last run, and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. You'd done all of them, after a few repeats, with all of your old dexterity, something the old doctor had warned you might not be able to do. But the joy faded, and with a little more force than strictly necessary you shut the piano; it clacked once in protest.

What real use, you asked yourself as you took the stairs back to the floor where your room was, were scales and triads and the like, when there was nothing to warm up for? Sure, you could easily have pulled apart the songs you knew and played, or closed your eyes and played from muscle memory alone. But it would feel wrong, sound wrong. Left hands, one piano teacher had told you, usually supported the right, or conversed with it. All of what you played would be half a song now, and with most, not the half that could stand on its own and still make sense to most.

Music mocked you right up until you fell asleep.

-0-

"Play right with your left?"

You looked up from your book on sharks slowly, one eyebrow raised. She blushed and fidgeted in her seat. Her gaze flicked over to the cards and flowers that lined the windowsill, but looked back to you and elaborated, instead of dropping it as she would have when you had first met. Slow, steady progress. "Couldn't you play the right hand's part with your left?"

The urge to change the topic rose up immediately, but you tamped it back down. She was, after all, in her partially blundering way, trying to help, because she loved you, and loved you enough that sitting with you in your room-home, temporary as it was-was enough. Despite the lack of things to do. "Perhaps. Certainly, with time. But… it wouldn't be the same." You said no more, but she nodded in understanding, went back to fiddling with her guitar, plucking string by string and tuning. With the conversation apparently over, you returned your attention to the words nestled in your lap. There it remained for two pages, until the heat of her stare drew a sigh out. "Yes, Ruby?"

"Could you play with your feet, you think?"

The idea, while not without precedence, seemed impossible for you. You didn't possess the control necessary, not in both feet. And again, it wouldn't be the same; anything less than what you had before felt… wrong, to you. So you shook your head.

"Mkay." She looked down at her guitar, tuned another string, before looking up again with a grin. "Imagine, though, you at a concert and just-" She stood up, with her gravest look, before bowing to you. Sitting back down, she took a deep breath-

-and grinned at you from between her two feet as she wiggled her toes close to your face.

You laughed, pushing her feet aside.

Her grin grew even brighter.

-0-

After her visit, you lasted five days before heading down when night settled in. You went through all your scales, and were halfway through triads when the quiet sound of a step made you aware of someone else there. In your haste to stand the seat scraped harshly against the floor before it fell, but you managed to grab a leg before it fell. You hissed to the room, unsure of where your unexpected visitor was standing, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?!"

"Sorry," was the reply, but the less apologetic, more amused tone had you scowling. Someone shifted from the shadows to stand in the low light, helped push the seat back into its proper position. "You all right? Didn't hit anything, did you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." You looked your unexpected companion over-you figured getting scared half to death gave you a free pass for it-and your first thought was _Holy-_

Not particularly elegant, but it suited. She was stunning, teeth and eyes bright against her dark skin as she smiled hesitantly. No doubt Yang would've made some crude comment, had she been with you.

Something else niggled at the back of your head; it took you a moment to realise what. When you did, you couldn't help but let out a small 'oh' of surprise, while wondering how you had overlooked it.

She mirrored you. She was taller, darker, looked far less fragile than you knew others saw you. But just as you had a left arm, she had only a right.

She said something, and you snapped back to a proper presence of mind, blushing. She had you reeling entirely. But in your defense, one was not usually prepared for social interaction at this hour. "Sorry, would you mind repeating that?"

She smiled, and you just managed not to narrow your eyes at the amusement she was reaping. "You played well." She motioned to the piano, just a slight shifting of her head. "Better than last time."

Alarm transformed into irritation and more than a bit of fury at that. "You heard me last time?"

Her gaze flickered with uncertainty, before she adopted a cooler look, one reflected in her voice. Her arm comes across her body, resting against her stomach. "I only heard the last little bit, before. I… have trouble sleeping sometimes, and walks help me, usually. And that's when I heard you. I-I'm probably coming across as some sort of creep but I swear, I didn't mean anything bad." An earnest light shone in her eyes, bold but simultaneously fragile.

You looked her over once more, purposefully, before turning back to the piano and muttering, "It's polite to announce yourself."

She, taking the statement as the permission to stay that it was, smiled and said, "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"How do you know there'll even be a next time, hm?"

"You're here now, aren't you?"

You scowled. She had you there. Itching at how predictable you were to this stranger, you deigned not to reply, and instead asked, "Do you have a name, O not-creeper of pianists?"

You got a laugh for that, not much more than a small 'heh' that expressed her amusement, but warmth welled up in your chest in response. No blushing, which you very grateful for, but she seemed to see something in your face that brought a light teasing tone again. "Blake. And you're Weiss Schnee." She shrugged in response to your surprise. "People talked when you got brought in."

Wryly you replied, "Knew who I was long before I knew you, and didn't say anything the first. You're really not helping dispel the image of creeper here, Blake."

She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, at least, and to mumble an apology and a bit more you couldn't catch. Casting her eyes about, her gaze settled on piano. "Do you-um." Having spoken a tad loud for a midnight conversation, she started over, this time in a softer voice. "Do you know Ave Maria?"

You waited for her to go on, but all you got was an expectant look. So you sighed, and dryly replied, "It might help if I knew which one you meant."

You knew most, but figured it small recompense for scaring you in the middle of the night.

"Ah." A weak laugh. "Right, right, that would probably help. Schubert, Schubert's Ave Maria."

"Who _doesn't_ know it?"

"Do you know how to play it, I mean."

"Yes, but why-"

You stopped talking then. You stopped talking because she sat down at the piano. You stopped talking because she sat on one side of the seat, rather than the centre.

"You play," you said, in part to stall for time while thought raced to decide what to do.

"I do. Did." Another flash of teeth, as she gave you another grin. "Started a bit later than most people, but I manage." Shifting her weight about, she looked down, then back up at you, hesitant and hopeful and worried. "Will you…?"

The urge to refuse, to go back to your room and stop visiting the piano in the middle of night, bubbled up. But curiosity and the familiar want for a challenge, and an unusual one at that, won out. Carefully you sat, did your best to minimise physical contact.

Given the placement of the left and right hands for this, you weren't very successful.

Ignoring the warmth of her beside you, you looked to her; she nodded once in return. Her right leg shifted, and she tapped out the tempo. On the ninth tap, you began. Lighter than you normally played, hesitant, but as a few measures proved to be cohesive, you walked your fingers over the keys with greater and greater confidence, a confidence she responded to with ease. The song sang out.

From halfway through to the end, you were smiling.

She was too, and it seemed to grow even bigger when she turned to you, with the last chord. With a playful tone and light nudge, she said, "So. That good enough, you think?"

You nudged back, your normal wariness regarding strangers relaxed by sheer joy. "More than, and you clearly know it." The assured air about her said as much, and, as if she were Yang or Ruby, you poked her side. Laughter rolled out of her at that, and her hand rose to cover her mouth.

She… looked surprisingly adorable when she did.

Hastily you shook your head, shoving that thought away-_you are not getting a crush on a person you just met Schnee_-and feeding the one that had sprouted while you had played. When she stopped laughing, you asked, "Would you mind-would it be a particular bother, doing that again sometime?" Blurted, if you were honest with yourself.

The silence that followed sent you into a mild panic, though you managed to keep it down and away from external expression. She looked at you oddly, disbelief and wariness present. But those faded, eventually, to simple pleasure, in her apparent realisation you were not joking. As if you would, about such a thing.

"I'd like to play again with you." She nodded once, twice, smiling. "Let's meet at a more reasonable hour, though."

"Yes." You looked at her from the corner of your eye, grinning as you said, "No need for you to be a creeper, now."

"I said I was sorry!"

Ignoring her protest and subsequent grumblings, you said, "How does noon tomorrow sound?"

"Today tomorrow or actual tomorrow tomorrow?" She flashed you the time, and you mock-glared.

"I'm aware of what hour it is, thank you very much. Tomorrow tomorrow. Enough time to gather your music, I hope?"

She nodded, before sliding off the bench. "We can compare notes then." With a little wave of fingers, she said, "Have a good night, Weiss."

Mind already considering and rejecting various pieces, you murmured an absentminded farewell before her words hit you. When they did, your head snapped around, and you half-hissed, "Was that a pun, Belladonna?"

A low laugh was your only reply.

You shook your head. "Terrible." There was no heat behind it. "Terrible. I am never introducing you to Yang."

-0-

"Tell it to me one more time?"

You sighed, pausing in your perusal of sheet music to look down at your current companion, who was laid out across your bed, head resting beside your right knee. "Yang for crying out loud I have told you what happened _two times _already-"

"But I wanna hear it again~" she whined, kicking her feet like some five year old, the bed creaking slightly in response. "It's sooo cute! Two strangers playing piano together in a way no one else can, in the early morning for only them to hear-"

You let out an unladylike snort, crossed your arms and muttered, "I don't see why I have to tell it to you again, if you know it so well."

"Because, Princess," she said, with a wide, wide grin, "You get this really cute blush on your face when you talk about her. Ah! See! There it is again!" She poked your cheek.

"Quiet, you." Weighing two more pieces, you huffed in frustration before setting them all aside. Blake could have a look; there was no point in getting frantic.

Yang's voice derailed your thoughts. "I'm glad." She sat up, and there was the sound of shuffling before she folded you into her embrace, legs bracketing your own, arms lightly holding you to her, her chin resting on your shoulder. You stiffened at first, but gradually, as you understood that this wasn't one of her playful hugs where she tried to squeeze the life out of her victims, you relaxed, met her gaze from the corner of your eye. "You were looking a little lost," she explained, a slight line between her eyebrows appearing, "And me and Rubes wanted to do something for you but we couldn't, y'know? So it was… frustrating." Her face brightened. "But then you met this Blake person last night-"

"This morning, technically speaking."

"Whatever! Point is, you look a lot more yourself. Got your fire back. And I'm happy you are."

"And not the least bit upset a stranger did what you could not?"

She reared back as if stung, arms slipping away and leaving you with the odd feeling that you were adrift. "No!" A pause. "Well…" Looking down and away from you, she worked her fingers through her hair, her answer a mumble. "A little bit, I guess. But!" She looked up at you again, a fierce, eager light in her eyes. "That's a stupid thing to hold on to. What matters is you're happy." Letting go of her hair, her arms came around you once more, loosely at first, but tightening their grip when you leaned in.

"You did what you could, Yang, and that's more than enough for me." Holding your palm up in your lap, her left hand immediately slid to hold it, fingers interlacing with yours. Silent acknowledgment of your words. For a few minutes there were no words, only her warmth around you.

She broke the silence, in typical Yang fashion.

"So, can I meet her? 'Cause if she gets you to blush like that, then she must be hot as-"

You elbowed her in the gut before she could finish.

**Notes**: Dustin' off the old FF account, because RWBY does that to people. If you got here, I hope you enjoyed your trip down. Any comments are appreciated. Ideally I'll have the next bites up in a timely fashion, so see you then!


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